


Sparring or... ?

by Sugar_and_honey



Category: Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Based on Braime season 3, F/M, RPF, Rehearsal for the Jaime-Brienne swordfight, Smut, Swordfighting, gwendolaj - Freeform, sexy sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22116814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_honey/pseuds/Sugar_and_honey
Summary: Yet to master the moves for their upcoming sword fight scene in Season 3, Gwen requests Nik to come and help her practise one night.WARNING : THIS IS AN RPF.
Relationships: Gwendoline Christie/Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	Sparring or... ?

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was triggered when, during one of her interviews, Gwen tells us that she took days to get the fight right while Nik mastered it in a couple of days.
> 
> The usual requests and warnings stand -  
> 1\. Please do not read if RPF isn't your cup of tea  
> 2\. Nik and Gwen are single as far as this story is concerned.

Nik strode toward her room with a spring in his step and more enthusiasm than necessary.

 _Can you help me practise?_ Gwen had texted him that morning, asking if he could join her late that night. Brienne was supposed to prevail over Jaime in the epic sword fight scene that would bring about a turning point in both their character arcs, and while Nik had mastered the moves in just about a couple of days, Gwen was still rusty, struggling a bit to get her strokes right despite the numerous hours of dedicated practice she put in every day. With just under a week to go before the shoot, they weren’t left with much time, so when she had texted him, he gave it a thought. While they had found it difficult to match up schedules and practiced individually all these days, they’d not yet given it a go together. So maybe if they tried to synchronise as much as they could, they might, perhaps, end up with a better on-screen outcome.

“Hey!”

Wearing a casual tank top that hugged her curves, shorts that left open a good portion of her thighs and the rest of her legs to distract him, and a bright smile on her face, she held the door open.

“Why this sudden desperation to catch up?” he asked as she shut the door and followed him inside. He did a quick survey of the room; lush and luxurious, there was ample space for them to use. 

When she led him inside, his eyes fell on the king size bed, leading his mind to stray into what it might be like to share it with her. Right from the day they had first met at the make-up trailer when she’d come down to introduce herself, he'd been unable to get her off his head. His Season 3 schedule made matters worse; all his scenes were with her which left him sharing his shoot time with her, with only her for company. While he had initially dismissed the _thing_ he harbored for her as just a fleeting infatuation, it didn’t help when he found himself drifting into thoughts about her even when they weren’t together. Adding to his problems, were the recurrent dreams he had begun having of her, just like Jaime did in the books, most of them ending with her naked and wet and writhing under him.

That he had separated from his wife only added fuel to the fire, his nights getting lonelier and him getting hornier every time he saw Gwen, even in the shapeless armour and ill-fitting costumes she had to wear all through their shoot. That she was wearing figure hugging clothes, that she was Gwen now, and not Brienne, didn’t fail to have its immediate effect on him, his heartbeat steadily rising as he admired her curvy chest and shapely butt.

“I’m kind of getting insecure about it,” she confessed, throwing him one of the sword props she had kept tucked away in a corner. “While I’m, no doubt, making progress training with the stunt director, I thought it might be better, you know, if you and I--”

He tossed her a flirty smile, genially offering, “Happy to help.”

And so they began, taking positions, slowly circling each like a pair of wild animals ready to pounce on each other. Or maybe, as two sexually charged equals waiting to best each other in a mating game to see who would emerge victorious and pin down the other to submission. Either way, what lay in front of him began to make Nik’s life more difficult. She bent slightly to re-examine her stance, and Nik’s eyes wandered to her front, the now-visible curve of her breasts, the thin straps of her top and peeking out beneath that, the lacy, barely-there strips of her bra sending a direct rush of blood to his groin, making him want to practise something entirely different with her.

She made the first move, lunging at him, and brushing aside his filthy thoughts for the time being, he smartly got out of her way, his sword clashing against hers to ward off her blow. He decided to put his prior swordplay skills to use, and every time she attempted to get the tip of the sword to his body, he was a step ahead of her and wide out of her reach. They continued in the same fashion. She attacked and he, just like the Jaime of the books would, gave her tough competition, tiring her out, frustrating her.

He could make out that her irritation had reached its peak when, instead of using her weapon, she decided to use her body, delivering a well-aimed punch to his abdomen. Totally unprepared for this and taken aback, he fought to keep his balance, and failing, went crashing into the table behind him, his elbow hitting something on it, which led to a warm liquid seeping into his shirt.

_What the hell?_

Gwen swooped down on him, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. “I’m so sorry,” she profusely apologized, blue eyes full of concern, “I didn’t mean to hurt--”

“Oh, I’m fine,” he brushed her off, amused that he had managed to bring out the Brienne inside her. “But my clothes are not.” When he glanced into the mirror to assess the damage, he found an angry brown patch rapidly spreading across his tee, widening by the second as the scope of the liquid increased.

“Tea,” she sheepishly mumbled, looking at muddy patch. “I totally forgot about it when you arrived.” He stood there, holding the wet shirt away from his body, wondering how to address this new problem, when she said, “Take it off.”

Jerked out of the messy situation, his mind started drifting toward _those_ thoughts again. “Excuse me?”

She blinked before hastily suggesting, “I mean, take it off and wash it immediately,” clearly flustered by the open ended statement she’d made. “Else the stain won’t come off. You don’t want to spoil a nice t-shirt, do you?”

Taking his shirt off in her presence could have a million other repercussions on him, but he had no choice. He couldn’t go on like this, nor could go back to his hotel in this state. “I don’t have a spare shirt,” he thought aloud.

For this again, she came up with an immediate retort. “You’re indoors and I’m the only one here with you. Why do you need a shirt?” When he raised his brows in shock and involuntary anticipation, she went on in a toned-down voice, “I mean, we could blow-dry it when we’re done, by the time you’re ready to leave.”

Nik couldn’t help rewarding her with a naughty smirk. “Are you sure you can resist me if I’m shirtless?”

Her mouth twitched as the blood flushed up her neck. “Why? Are you planning to seduce me tonight?” she shot back, matching his snark.

But for her accuracy in reading his deepest darkest desires, he would’ve scoffed at her. And despite her suggestion not being his conscious intention, he couldn’t help hitting the ball back to her court with an equally racy, “Why do I get the feeling it’s you who’s getting such corrupting ideas? Worried you can’t handle me getting naked in front of you? Concerned you might end up with your hands and mouth all over my chest, panting and moaning and helpless beneath me?”

He knew he’d gone over the limit when she blushed hard. He was about to mumble some damage control when she retorted with a terse and dismissive, “Enough of jokes. I think we ought to resume what you’re _actually_ here for.”

Irritated Gwen always turned him on more, and before she could see his reaction on his face, he rushed away to the bathroom. He peeled his shirt off and began scrubbing it clean until the stain was washed away, and once done, he had rinsed the tea off his back. As he dried himself with the towel that hung there, he slipped into one of his frequent bouts of imagination, picturing her under him, writhing and panting, swearing the choicest and filthiest curses in her sexy accent and screaming his name, pleading with him to go harder, faster, wilder, begging him to let her come--

He shut his eyes to calm himself down, taking deep breaths, forcing his mind and his raging hormones to relax, to stay under wraps, and when he was fairly confident he could manage the woman and the situation she had created for him, he returned to her.

“Like what you see?” he teased, when her eyes trailed down his neck, his bare chest and his stomach before finally coming to rest at the waist of his jeans.

“Oh, you wish,” she shrugged him off again, pulling her gaze away so he couldn’t search those eyes for what she really thought about him. “Time to get going,” she announced, brisk and energetic, once more, when she returned his stick-sword to him.

And it began again; their duel or dance or game or whatever an onlooker might want to term it, and this time she turned out far more promising than before. While she wasn’t yet up to the standards Brienne was supposed to meet with her footwork and the way she manoeuvred the weapon still far from the prescribed technique, she was certainly doing better than their first time. 

All over the place, they used up the whole wide expanse of the spacious room, grunting and huffing and cursing, and things began getting hotter and sweatier-- well, _she_ began getting sultrier and sexier with her thin top clinging to her, the outline of her bra and the pointy edge of her nipples making their presence felt under the almost transparent fabric.

He drifted away from the fight, his mind flying to Jaime’s internal monologues in the books, rich chunks of information he’d tucked away safely in his memory, to recall in case he needed references for a scene any time. Two things made the knight come alive, _fucking and fighting,_ and Nik had to agree. While this was just a mock duel with the actual scene far from what it was supposed to be as per the books, it certainly was exhilarating. The adrenaline rush, the sound of the swords meeting and separating, the throaty sounds she made when she was particularly aggressive--all this made him feel like they were actually Jaime and Brienne with their sizzling sexual chemistry just waiting for a spark to ignite it, to send them tumbling into a massive explosion that would rip them apart. His cock rose to life when he wondered what she might sound like when she orgasmed, when he mentally stripped her clothes off, vivid images of her all over his mind, driving him crazy and his fucking hormones way out of proportions.

_What would it be like to have one of her tits between my teeth, to lick them and suck them until she moaned in pleasure? What would she taste like down there--_

This short-spanned distraction proved costly for him and good enough for her, and taking advantage of his ill-timed daydream, she attacked him with a deftly executed kick to his calf which had him stumbling backwards and fighting to stay in the fight for the second time that night. 

“Finally,” she gloated, glancing at him in triumph.

But she’d begun celebrating too soon. 

Not to be undone, Nik groped frantically for the edge of the table he knew was behind him, and rescued his balance. Her glee proved to be her distraction and downfall when he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her into him. 

Capitalising on the surprise in her eyes, he disarmed her with ease and locked her in an intimate embrace. “Yield,” he softly commanded, unsurprised that he sounded so hoarse and husky and so damned aroused.

“I won’t,” she refused, wriggling in his arms.

“I'm not going to release you then,” he playfully threatened.

“Give me the sword, Kingslayer,” she mouthed a line that was left off the scripts, her voice equally hoarse and croaky, her weaponless right hand coming to rest somewhere along his heart.

“Oh, I would,” he responded with his corresponding line, then pulling her closer, he threw her one of his character’s famously flirtatious lines, “but not before I overpower you, fling you down, tear off your clothes…” He stared down her top, her beautifully reddening, glistening skin asking to be touched and caressed, crying out to be kissed, the sweat droplets decorating it, waiting to be licked away.

“This isn’t fair,” she complained, flicking her tongue across her lips as she casually ran her fingers through his chest hair, clearly enjoying the feel of it.

His jeans tightening, he fought off the pain in his groin by tightening his grip around her, pressing his chest to hers, letting those firm tits pierce him hard and deep. “Everything’s fair in love and war, wench,” he blurted, without thinking.

Squirming and struggling, she purred, “This is neither love nor war,” her scorching gaze striking him like a dart to the chest. “Now let me go.”

“Set yourself free. Leave if you want to,” he challenged, dropping both the swords to the ground, adjusting his grip to hold her properly. He let his fingertips kiss the bare patch of skin where the edge of her top met her shorts. “You know you can, Gwen.”

“Nik,” she implored again, her eyes sending out mixed signals, leaving him confused. On the one hand, it seemed like she wanted him, this closeness, his touch, the pressure of his body against hers, but on the other, she appeared to be holding herself back… some sort of inhibitions, maybe, or maybe something else that restricted her from taking the next step forward. 

Anxiety gripped him at the possibility that he might have probably toed an invisible line, and he let go of her at once, putting respectable distance between them. They both retreated to opposite ends of the bed to cool down before beginning the next bout and Nik took a huge swig of water, hoping the chilled drink might provide him the respite he so badly needed. 

“Let’s work on your hand and foot movements now,” he suggested, when they got up at the end of their break. At least that wouldn’t require him to touch or tackle her. He wouldn’t have to gatecrash into her personal space or dwell on her damp clothes. He would be spared of an early death by an untimely heart attack, or worse still, an arousal that went unaddressed.

Gwen nodded, looking as relieved as him with the suggestion.

“Show me your stance,” he said, positioning himself about a foot away from her.

He then circled her; while her footwork was okay, her grip still wasn’t, which was presumably why she had been struggling with her strokes. “Your grip needs some corrections,” he pointed out, moving behind her to examine her right hand. “You hold the hilt too loose, which was why I was easily able to disarm you.”

“I was distracted,” she defended herself.

“Maybe,” he vaguely concurred, wondering if it was his bare chest that led to her lapse in concentration. “But you need to hold your weapon--” he brought his hand over hers, his fingers curling around hers, holding her over the piece of wood she held. 

And immediately, he could feel the switch in her body language. She straightened, her back brushing against his chest, tingling his skin, elevating his senses to a state of high-alert. He tried to keep his hand steady, but her touch, her warmth despite the moisture in her shirt, left him breathless like a bumbling teenager.

“ _Nik_.”

The way she said his name, the softness in her tone and the need behind that one word was the last straw, prompting him to bring his other hand to her waist. “You--” he faltered, his voice full of tremors, unsure what to say next. “You need to hold it properly, Gwen,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand in an attempt to calm her shaking fingers.

The next few seconds ended up becoming a torture of a different level, him against her, her against him, hot and bothered and helpless... 

And then, Gwen did quite the opposite of what he'd instructed her to, letting the sword drop to the ground. But she didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned behind, nestling into his chest. “I want you, Nik,” she whispered, grinding into him, moving back and forth against his erection. “I want you to--”

He squeezed her waist over the pathetic piece of clothing that screamed to be gotten rid of, and she yelped, rubbing harder… with a desperation that shot through the rooftops… Gods, this woman was going to be the death of him! They had toed the line long back, right at the beginning when they had started this erotic dance under the excuse of sparring. The fucking line didn’t even exist anymore! Sliding his right hand up her wrist, he made a slow, yet delightful journey up her slender arm, teasing her, feeling her… 

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, when his left hand snaked up her front, grabbing, groping and happily stroking whatever part of her he met, until he reached the valley between her breasts. “Fuck,” she swore again, louder this time, when he circled her breast with the tip of his forefinger. And when his thumb brushed the tip of her nipple, Gwen shuddered violently. She spun around to face him, her eyes shimmering with lust when she threw her arms around his neck. 

Bringing her lips to his forehead, she began kissing him slowly and sensuously. This wasn’t even a proper kiss, but Nik was already going crazy, his hands all over her, his chest heaving against hers in irregular frantic breaths. She withdrew, but before he could object, she was back again, placing sweet little kisses all over his face.

“Fuck, Gwen,” he moaned, his heart beginning to race every time her mouth met his skin. Both his hands found themselves on her sides where her top had ridden up, and spiralling out of his control, they slid along her body, roughly moving up her smooth back, dragging her top with them. 

What repercussions this would have on their professional lives, he couldn’t say upfront, but he wanted it so much. 

_So fucking much!_

He’d had enough of her teasing little kisses. He wanted more, he wanted her mouth. Unable to stand it anymore, he leaned in to trap her in a real kiss, their lips finally meeting after all these months of silently admiring her from a distance. She tasted of wine and chocolate and mint, his heart jumping a little every time he felt her lips push back against his with heat that left him gasping for more. He took her lower lip between his, sucking it, licking it, just the way he always did in his dreams. Her knees buckling under the intensity of what he was subjecting her to, she stumbled, but he dragged her back to her feet, deepening the kiss with a wild ferocity, a hunger, a need he’d never realized was this serious. 

He left her mouth alone to breathe, to begin a wet trail down her neck, and she made one of the throaty, horny noises that had haunted him in his raunchy dreams. He began kissing up and down her neck while her hands tugged at his chest hair…

He didn't want to stop. He didn’t want her to stop.

He held her as fiercely as he could, kissing her everywhere, tasting whatever part of her his mouth could access. His fingers went on a kissing spree of their own up her smooth torso, feeling the delicate fabric of her bra on the sides. 

Oh, how he wanted those firm breasts in his hands!

She withdrew without warning, and Nik felt a wave of dread engulfing him. Had he done something wrong? Was he not her type? But the heat in her eyes when they met his did more than quell his unnecessary fears. 

“Fuck me, Nik,” she demanded, dragging him to the bed and collapsing on top of him. “Make love to me. Do whatever it takes to get rid of this pain.”

“Gladly, _my lady_ ,” he growled. 

Wasting no more time, he slipped out of his shoes, then undid his jeans and pushed them down his hips, shucking them away as fast as he could. His cock stood hard and proud, poking from the top of his boxers. He took a second to note Gwen’s reaction when he stripped down to nothing, her darkening pupils and the way she licked her lips when her eyes flickered down to his groin making him want to speed up things and get down to the actual business. Eager to undress her next, he moved his hands up her body, massaging and caressing her as he went. Her top kept riding up as he progressed, uncovering more and more of her smooth creamy skin. Unable to stand it anymore, he began fumbling with her bra strap. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he roared, frustrated when he found no success with something as simple as this.

“Need help?” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Feral aggression taking over, he roughly grabbed her top and pulled it over her head, tossing it away. Next to go was her bra, and this time he took no more than a few seconds to free her breasts. And after that, he attacked her shorts, pulling them off along with her soaked panties which smelled of her delicious arousal.

Nik looked at her from top to toe, taking a moment to take her in, admire her, worship her lovely form. The hideous armour and the men’s clothes she wore for her character did all they could to hide this perfectly sculpted body, to tuck it away to bring her as close to the mannish wench she played, but _this -_ the sexy goddess that she was, he was glad, didn't remain hidden from him for long. He only had a brief moment to process his feelings, for her body slid down onto his, her now bare chest rubbing against his, her hardened nipples pressing into his skin.

He flipped her over, then bending down, he caught her mouth in his. Her lips parted under his, inviting him to go further, and before he could deepen the kiss, her tongue was in his mouth, twisting and swirling and sparring against his. Her tits pushing harder into his chest, she began moving back and forth, up and down, her tender sensitive skin against his coarse chest hair, as they kissed their way into the next stage of bliss. His cock jutted into her thighs, pushing, awaiting its way in, the tip, wet against her skin. She grabbed his erection, her sudden move taking him by surprise. She began moving her hand in a steady rhythm, her thumb wrapping over the head, stroking him all over. He bit his tongue, her lip, the delicate skin below her collarbone and whatever else he could get hold of, his ache, unbearable, his patience, thinning, now at its threshold.

He wanted her in every way possible before the night was done, else he would explode. 

His mouth was on her neck, moving down to her throat when he’d had his fill there, and then to her chest. He explored her soft breasts with his tongue and teeth, enjoying every sigh, his touch elicited, every gasp and every little twitch under him. He could spend his lifetime here, tasting her, pleasuring her, giving her anything she demanded.

_Anything... everything..._

He reached down and slipped a finger inside her, moving it up and down the length of her mound. She was so wet for him… so wonderfully aroused. He pushed a little more, and her body came to life with a violent shudder when he hit her clit. She screamed out in passion when he rubbed his fingertip to it, rattling off a string of filthy cuss words followed by a rough cry of his name. Encouraged, he kept up his assault on her cunt, the smart, sophisticated Gwen mouthing dirty, sexy words, the best thing he’d heard in a long time. It was fascinating, out of this world.

She abruptly let go of him, and grabbing a handful of his hair, pulled him off her. “I want _you_ ,” she begged, her eyes beseeching him to put an end to her torture.

Desperate to bring their game to a fitting conclusion and his agony to an end, he slid into her. 

He gave her a moment to adjust, to get accustomed to his length, then thrust again, filling her this time, sheathing himself to the hilt, his mind purged of everything but her. She was so tight around him, the pressure squeezing him, killing him. He started to move, beginning with a slow and rhythmic tempo, and Gwen was left thrashing frantically beneath him, her long legs wrapped tightly around his ass, locking him in, taking him hostage. 

He withdrew, then rammed into her again, and she gasped out his name like no woman ever had, arching her body to join him, meeting him mid-way, rocking the hell out of him. He stepped up, and as his thrusts became wilder and more frantic, her walls gripped his cock, holding him tight, then releasing him before securing him in her custody again...

_Harder… faster..._

He slid a thumb to her clit, pressing, stimulating, plunging deeper and deeper, plundering her, giving her all he had.

“Nik,” she cried, her hips gyrating against his, his cock throbbing inside her, her fingers clawing into his back, her sweat on his skin. He kept pounding into her… and it felt so good. Her mouth on his skin, her hands all over him, her walls closing in on him… clenching… collapsing… All of her. So good. 

_So damn fucking good…_

When she came with his name on his lips, she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Lips swollen, face flushed and eyes shut in bliss - the image was etched firmly in his mind’s eye, permanent and lasting, never to be erased or forgotten.

He went on to seek his release. His blood was singing. He was on cloud nine, thrusting away to join her, exploding, dissolving, dissipating… finally reaching his destination and the end of the beautiful journey that was only the beginning, he hoped, of many more to come. 

When it was over, they held each other, their trembling bodies gradually coming to a peaceful and contented calm. He took his time, relishing her embrace, soaking in her warmth, and so comfortable with her, he found himself to be, that he wanted to stay like this forever.

 _In her arms_...

“Gwen,” he called out softly, lifting his head to meet her eyes.

Her blue eyes full of warm affection, she drew his face to hers. “That was one hell of a sparring session.”

“It was,” he agreed, teasing her lips with his tongue. “I think we should make this a regular routine,” he suggested, then going a step ahead, he added, “A lifelong practice, maybe?”

She leaned up to kiss him back with a surprised, “Lifelong?”

“Why not?” he said, hoping this wasn’t merely a one time thing, but the beginning of something new he could look forward to with her. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“As if there’s any doubt about that,” she replied, before pulling him down to deepen the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it. Do share your comments.


End file.
